


Melting ice

by Anonymous



Category: Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Hockey, Angst, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Fluff, Hockey, Ice Skating, Light Angst, M/M, Multi, Olympics, Sports, Winter Olympics, george centric
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-01
Updated: 2021-02-02
Packaged: 2021-03-12 17:14:06
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,177
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29139111
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: George is a figure skater working on a spot for the olympics and Dream is a hockey player who doesn't take hockey too seriously basically
Relationships: Clay | Dream/GeorgeNotFound (Video Blogging RPF)
Comments: 3
Kudos: 48
Collections: Anonymous





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> First fic!

The classical orchestra plays in his ears, a melody soothing enough that he melts into it. It's ear candy, ear candy to a pianist, figure skaters, and orchestrators around the world. The tune soaks in his body as he lets his arms free. Practicing his solo for the national championship. It's hard, harder than anything he’s ever done before, anything he could ever imagine— yet it’s just the beginning. 

George could handle it, he could. The daily practices and amount of work put into figure skating since he was a child had to pay off for these championships. Championships led to the Olympics and from the Olympics onwards was for when he got there.

He was leaning into it, determined, leaning into the triple lutz; one of his harder moves in the solo that wasn’t quite perfected yet. Deep breaths. Practice made perfect. He skates into the air, spinning and gaining momentum while he floats for a brief time. Land land land. 

It doesn’t land and does the opposite. George's legs tumble off each other mid release of the jump, tripping over his skates and falling face front into the ice. His hands breaking the impact.

He hisses at the pain, skates cutting his legs through the thin jeans. It hurts, it hurts so bad but it always hurts when he fails.

He takes his AirPods out, sitting up than lying his back down on the ice. The cold was a warmth to him, comforting ice whenever we messed up. Annoying that he messed up, annoying annoying annoying. At the rate he was going the jump would never be perfected, over-dramatics was his worst trait, he’d practice and practice and it’d never be right.

George huffs in frustration, the pain still stinging as the material of his jeans hits the newly wounded legs. 

“Hey!’ a voice calls from the bleachers, steps coming closer. George sits up, squinting his eyes to see the man. One of the hockey players, they shared the same rink— unfortunately. 

George snickers, “I’ll leave soon!” he shouts back, standing up and wincing. “Ow,” he whispers to himself. He should be used to the pain, he was a little, it still catches him off guard sometimes. Blood and pain wasn’t his forte. He limps over to the exit, untying the laces of his skates and kicking them off. 

The hockey player walks over to the exit, looking down at him, “Hey” he laughs, “I wasn’t— I didn’t mean to interrupt your practice, mine isn’t until forty minutes. I was going to ask if you’re okay.”

George looks up at him, he didn’t recognize him. To be fair he never paid attention to the hockey players unless they had to interact for some reason, they were all assholes who acted like hockey was the only sport out there.

“I’m fine.” he laughs a little at himself, he wasn’t and it hurt like hell still, “can you get the uh, the medical aid thing?” embarrassing, he hated asking for help. “Nevermind, I’ll find it.” 

The hockey player looks surprised, “nonono, you sit! You’re injured, right? Sit and I’ll find it.” Injured. It could make George laugh, injured? He wasn’t injured. George nods, walking over to the nearest bleacher row and sitting. “I’m Dream, I think you’re George, yeah?” 

George takes off his hoodie, leaving a blue shirt under and looking at his elbows for scratches, “yeah.” Dream did ring a bell now, a top player for the hockey team that shared a rink with him. “Really? I thought ‘the George’ would be a little more graceful on the rink.” Dream teases. 

He huffs, “It’s a hard jump! You wouldn’t understand ‘the Dream’” he mocks him, laughing as he speaks. Dream walks over to George holding the first aid kit, “Yeah? I bet you I could do that trick in a month max.”

He hands George the first aid kit, “you sure you can handle it on your own?” he looks down at the jeans which were now a bit shredded from the fall, “your leg is fucked.” George takes it from his and rolls his pants up, hissing at the pain, “I’m fine. It's normal for this to happen, we don’t get padding like you guys.” 

He opens the first aid kit, and before he takes the gauze out, Dream takes it from the box, “let me do it.” George held back any argument and let dream take the alcohol out too. 

He pours alcohol into a cotton ball and George wrinkles his nose at the smell, squirming once Dream puts the ball at his leg scratches. 

“What were you practicing anyway?” Dream questions after he finishes wiping off any excess blood that was coming from his wounds. George grips his hoodie, “my solo, for championships.” Dream hums, “Isn’t that in a while?”

George nods, “practice makes perfect though, I’d rather fail now than fail then.” Dream wraps the gauze around his leg, lifting George's arm up to check for scratches. “Do you not have championships?” 

The conversation came easy like they knew each other for years like this wasn’t their first time meeting. They had a lot in common, from one topic to the next, coding, school, video games, and passion for what they do. Admirable, really.

Once Dream finishes he wraps the gauze up and places it back, taking the alcohol and bandaids then putting them back too. 

“Good to go?” George nods and rolls his pants down, grabbing his hoodie from beside him and putting it on. “I’ve gotta go now, practice and all— it was nice talking to you! Hopefully we talk more?” Dream smiles. George looks up at him, “Yeah, maybe.” 

He waves off to him as Dream walks towards the locker room and as more hockey players flood the building. George sits up and walks to the door, pushing past some of the hockey players. All though Dream was nice, in the end, most of them weren’t. He didn’t want to be around them for long.


	2. Pastries

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Formation of the dream team!
> 
> This chapter is a little bit of a filler and character friendship building

It was like the music was haunting him when he woke up, it blasted through his ears, when he fell asleep it was playing somewhere quietly and when he tried to make breakfast it was a distracter. 

He knew the rhythm by heart, the moves that followed each piano key could recite in his head. It was daunting, like a persistent ghost that wouldn’t leave a human alone. George groans, rubbing his face. He enjoyed ice skating, he did really, it was fun and rewarding being high ranking at something— it wasn’t fun failing or being tortured by piano notes. 

George sits up from his bed, blue bed sheets covering his body. He had a plan today, not different from any other days mainly but this time he’d visit a cafe in the morning. Since nationals coming up he had a very screwed eating schedule, either unintentionally not eating anything for the day or going by with snacks and cups of noodles from the vending machine.

Today he was going to a cafe, a specific cafe where a certain friend of his works at so he wouldn’t be charged extra. 

* * *

“Gogy!” George physically winces at that, “Don’t call me that.” He laughs as he walks to the counter. It was Sapnap, his childhood nuisance friend that somehow stuck with him. Sapnap was a hockey player, like Dream, but for a different team that used a different rink so they barely saw each other unless arranged. 

Sapnap hopped over the counter, totally not allowed if any management was there at the time, and engulfed George in a hug. 

George let Sapnap hug him, surprisingly as he would always pull away, it was nice after being on the ice for most of the week. 

“It’s pretty empty in here.” George acknowledges as he pulls away from the hug. Sapnap nods, walking back behind the counter and stealing some pastries for George. “It’s a slow day today, I think a lot of people are studying. Winter exams and all.” He hums. The mention of exams reminding him about practice, “I probably won’t stay too long Sap, I have to practice.” 

Sapnap turns to him and frowns, “Come on! When did you become a workaholic!” He puts the pastries on a plate then puts the plate on the counter, “What did nationals do to my gogy.” He fake cries. George laughs at him, taking the plate and sitting down at the nearest tables. 

“It’s just I want to win, that’s all.” Sapnap hops into the chair across from him, resting his head in his hand. “You need a break though, not even me wanting to spend time with you like a _good best-friend_ way, you just need a break.” 

George waves him off, taking a bite of the croissant, “maybe.” he says mouth full. Maybe was a no by his standards, maybe was in the future— after the nationals. 

The door chimes and Sapnap perks his head up, immediate face brightening, “Dude!” He gets up and runs over to the newest arrival. George looks over and recognizes the blond hair immediately. “Dream?” It slips out of his mouth. It was the player from yesterday. In normal clothes that weren’t his hockey uniform.

Sapnap pulls away from their handshake and eyes George, “you two know each other?” Dream shrugs, looking over at George, “Kind of, I saw him fail a jump in the rink and patched him up.” Sapnap hits his shoulder, “Nice.”

“He actually offered and I kindly said yes because I didn’t want to be rude, to be clear.” He corrects. Dream laughs and walks over to George's table, “I didn’t know you two were friends.” George moves some of his pastries towards Dream, “I’ve known him since we were like six.” He nods along.

“How do you know Sapnap?” Dream laughs, “I beat his ass in hockey. His team's shit.” Sapnap gasps, walking over with a bottle of water and giving it to George. “Not true, it was a close game.”

“Bullshit, five to three?” Sapnap groans, “It was a bad day okay!” Sapnap and Dream seemed close, close just for them to only know each other by the means of hockey. They talked a lot too, the conversation boring George as he didn’t care much for hockey. 

Dream looks over at George, “You should come to one of our games. Watch me beat Sapnap again.” Sapnap laughs, “No yeah, George come! Then we can laugh together when Dream gets embarrassed after his team takes the fattest L.” 

George laughs, “When?” Sapnap shrugs and looks at Dream, “I dunno.” He rolls his eyes and Dream answers for him, “Next Wednesday.” George nods, “maybe.”

He looks down at his phone to check the time, snickering to himself. He somehow spent thirty extra minutes than he meant to in this cafe. Taking the water bottle and putting it into his hoodie pocket he sits up from his chair. 

“Where are you going, mister!” Sapnap questions. “practice, sorry, we can hang out later?” He frowns and stretches his arms out on the table, pouting. George laughs, “come on Sap, you know you don’t care _that_ much.”

He shakes his head, looking at Dream, “tell him to stay!” Dream looks at George, nodding, “you should stay.” 

George laughs, “no. Last answer, you two have fun though.” he smiles and waves to them both as he leaves the cafe. Ignoring the pleads coming from Sapnap.

* * *

George huffs, sitting down on the ice. It was tiring, he was getting sick of the music at this point. He was failing more and more, even the simplest of jumps he was failing. It was frustrating, frustrating enough that he could cry. 

It was late, his coach would be upset with these extra practices he was doing when he should be taking a break— he knew that but it felt like a waste of time to do nothing on the weekends where he could be practicing. 

George stands up, tapping his AirPods to replay the song and he’s doing the solo again. He calms his frustration and tries to welcome the music. It was a friend not an enemy. The piano notes seemed harsher, like yelling instead of whispers. 

He was doing the solo poorly, he felt it in his chest, yet he was still doing it. He got past the easy jumps that his body wasn’t letting him do. He skates into the Triple Lutz, jumping up into the air and spinning. He narrows his eyes at the ice as he spins, focusing on the landing spot.

George closes his eyes and the spinning halts and as his skates touch the ice. Opening them in shock as he tumbles over. He landed it, he landed it! For the first time his skates touched the ice after it, all though the fumble that came after because of the initial shock, he landed it. 

He could cry, he could. He lays back on the ice and sighs out of relief. He was tired, tired and starving. 

  
  



End file.
